


Between The Hill And The River

by solitariusvirtus



Series: SDTRR-verse [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bonding, Drabble Collection, Family Drama, Gen, Siblings, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-18 19:51:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9400601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solitariusvirtus/pseuds/solitariusvirtus
Summary: Between the hill and the river, poetry is born. Or if not that, then at least a number of adventures worthy of songs to immortalise them. Brother and sister, Aenar and Aemma, plan to have their own songs sung in their father's hall; provided, of course, they return in one piece to tell the tale; the Freehold of Valyria had rarely been kind though.And then there are the songs of the royal court.





	1. i

**Author's Note:**

> These are not actual canon characters. Please do not confuse them. :) They pertain to the So Doth The River Run series.
> 
>  
> 
> [4] _Allegedly the mother of six out of the seven sons, according to Dragonlied, her name was Lyanne, with some sources spelling it as Lyanna. She was of House Rosby according to Maester Willmot, with Maester Sartor claiming she was a Baratheon. Further study places her in House Stark. King Rhaegar’s first bride is given as a member of House Martell by the name of Elia._ Apparently the order is as such: Aemon, Jaehaerys, Daegar, Maelor, Aenar and Rhaemon. The daughters are presumably of the following names: Naerys, Rhaella, Elaena, Daena, Baelle, Aemma and Rhae. ([source](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7788178/chapters/17767000))

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dusk’s coiled tail retained its immobility for the duration of the long silence, head still upon her long limbs. Her collected demeanour should have been no surprise, the she-dragon had been born with the same peculiar enduring attitude his sister possessed. It oft made him wonder at why she’d chosen him. The least suited, objectively to her calm temper and unbroken tranquillity. Even now, in the face of his tremendous distress and acute misery, she regarded him through heavy-lidded eyes, as though the procession bored her.

Aenar turned his gaze to the woman standing before him. In the moonlight, her skin seemed paler, her already drawn face starker. “You do not understand,” he insisted, hand still upon her shoulders. “I am not going to the Free Cities. I care little for the likes of Lys and Pentos. I am going to the Freehold of Valyria.”

“We can work aught out, brother,” she answered, keeping a steady gaze upon his face. How he hated her in that moment. “You know the dangers that lie ahead. You could leave for a little while. Your absence would hardly be noticed and by the time you return, all shall be buried and forgotten. But to fly to Valyria, all on your own; that is too much.” The purse of Aemma’s lips eased when he realised her shoulders. “If there is aught you wish to tell me, I am here.”

“You always have been,” he muttered. “I do not want to be like you, sister. Always there. I am not like that. I am not Aemon either, nor Jaehaerys. The realm does not interest me. Maelor has his harp and Daeg his poetry. What do I have?” Something flashed in her eyes. Being twins had certain perks. There were times when he could take her meaning without her speaking, and there were instances in which her feelings were so clear and strong he felt them as well. “I just want something of my own. Is that so very unacceptable?”

“Why did you not tell father from the beginning?” She sat down upon the stone bench once more, fingers tracing the patterns upon her kirtle. “He would not have refused.” Aenar stopped to consider. Why hadn’t he told the King?

“How could I have?” He sat down as well, the satchel strapped to his back sagging as the bonds slackened. “Mother would have been heartbroken, and nowhere near willing to allow me to leave. This could be it for me. I can feel it.”

“A treacherous path,” she warned, though the seedling of understanding did not go unmissed. “What awaits you in those ruins? Do you recall when Ser Jaime told us about Gerion Lannister? He wanted an adventure, riches and such. He never returned. Aurion never returned, taking his host with him the gods know where. And you would leave on your own. With no one to watch your back.”   

He sighed. “There is hardly anyone I could ask. Unless you offer to come along.” Dusk chose that moment to rise, her head lifting as she looked to the horizon. “And I would not expose you to such danger anyway. You are my dearest sister.”

“Replying that I was your only sister would have been most satisfying as responses go. I shall have to settle for, I am your twin, ‘tis natural I be dearest to you.” Aemma took his hand in hers, gripping him tightly. “We shared a womb, we shared a childhood. You would not share an adventure with me as well? And if not with me, then with whom? If you go on your own, you shan’t return.”

“I find your lack of faith disturbing.” Nevertheless, he could see that she would not back out. “But if you truly mean to do this, then I suggest we waste no more time.” Dawn, who had been up until that point pecking at her own wings, flapped the aforementioned appendages, as though to show her joy at the prospect of taking flight. “Or might be ‘twould not be such a bright idea after all. They might believe you’ve been spirited away.”

“Naught as dramatic.” His sister, lifted the cloak wrapped around her shoulders to reveal she’d packed her own satchel. “My poor brother, the meaning of subtlety is lost on you.”

“I will have you know, I know everything there is to know about subtlety.” He stared pointedly at the disbelief she exhibited.         

“Might be how to write it.” Her deadpan response did not exactly lift his mood, but it made the situation easier to digest. He would be a liar to deny it. “Would that you had trusted me with this before.”

“You would have tried to stop me.” Like she just had.

Aemma nodded without a shred of shame. “Aye. For good reason. But I might have had more time to compose a coherent explanation for mother and father. Do you realise I have had to write in under an hour a few pages’ worth of justification. I can only hope ‘tis convincing.” Laughter followed. The sort which made his heart drop in his stomach.

“I shudder to ask, but what is so amusing?” His eyebrow raised, Aenar tried his best impression of authority. “Aemma, I should like an answer.”

“Naught. I just,” she trailed off with a soft sigh, I suppose I just thought, for the longest time, that if anyone was to sneak off in the middle of the night on some grand adventure, it would be Rhaella.” He could see her point.

“She would have stolen a ship. We, at least, have our dragons.” They both laughed at that. “What am I saying? Velaryon would have had that ship prepared for her without a peep of protest. I find that even more disturbing. What is it with the willingness of men to put up with you lot?”    

“I wouldn’t know, I am not a man.” She stood and approached Dawn. “What do you say, girl, shall we be off now, before anyone realises we’re gone?”

Sneaking off on the back of gigantic dragons was a lot harder than people credited.

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Baelle was making faces at Rhaemon, ignoring the scowling Daena on her other side. Elaena was steadying a book in one hand, the other hand preoccupied with guiding a raspberry tart to her lips. She nearly missed the mark, and would have undoubtedly been covered in crumbs and thick jam were it not for her realising the danger she’d exposed herself, and her book to.

“Must you bring your reading material to the table?” Lyanna questioned.  Elaena, as was her custom, ignored the criticism. “And you, Baelle, leave your brother to his food. Rhaemon, truly, you are no longer a babe.” Her youngest son pouted. She bit back a sigh and shifted Rhae upon her other knee. The girl sneezed, showing no mercy to the delicate embroidery decorating her kirtle. At the very least no one else had caught her head cold.  

“But mother, it’s so very boring,” Baelle complained. “And Rhaemon is enjoying himself, aren’t you, little brother.” The babe nodded vigorously, clearly enthralled with the attention he was getting. Her daughter’s head pressed against her chest, distracting her momentarily. “Besides,” Baelle continued, “I too have to entertain myself somehow.” When she looked up she was her staring at Elaena. “’Tis not as though I have anyone to speak to,”

Whatever spat had driven a wedge between her and Daena, no amount of pestering would solve it. Lyanna drew in a sharp breath and hoped she was not feeling the beginnings of a headache. A bevy of daughters was, strangely enough, turning out to be harder to manage than a yardfull of sons. However had said daughter were angelic presences in one’s life had clearly never met any of her offspring.  Forsooth they would have run for the hills. “Have any of you seen Aemma?”   

“I reckon she sleeps yet,” Daena offered at long last. By way of explanation, the girl shrugged her shoulders and murmured, “Last I saw her, she’d been collecting a fresh well full of ink she’d left in the library.” Books yet again.  At times she could swear half the children were perfect copies of their father as far as habits went.

“That makes no sense,” Elaena intervened, lowering her book so she might make eye contact. “Aemma rarely sleeps in late. I reckon she got Rhae’s head cold.” Plausible as it was frightening.

Turning to one of her ladies, Lyanna consoled herself that she’d be disturbing the woman’s meal for a good cause. “Be so kind and see how my daughter fares and what exactly delays her arrival.”

And with that, all there was left to do was to wait. Which Lyanna did with characteristic impatience, her foot tapping away beneath the table and its cloth. Rhae’s shifting accompanies her movement, along with Rhaemon and Baelle’s drowned conversation. It would be a miracle if that headache was absent for long.

Her wait was at and end when her lady returned. It took very little power of observation to deduce that her grimacing visage was sign of bad news. Lyanna tensed, waiting for the other shoe to fall, as it were.

“Your Majesty, the Princess,” her companion stuttered, stumbling over almost every syllable. “She’d gone.”

 

 

 

 

 

       


	2. ii

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rhaegar considered his young daughter. Naerys, however, paid him no mind. Her head was bent over the board, studying the pieces. He could barely believe this was the very same girl whom he’d held on his knee while reading petitions, the very same one who’d protest his lack of attention by smearing jam over his garb and work. But then they were not entirely the same, she and that little girl.

When had she grown?

Naerys glanced up at him. Light caught in her eyes, glittering silver. The glance dropped into a protective glare and she lowered her gaze once more to the more palatable sight of the game pieces. “My gods, all these years and I still feel a novice. You have won, Your Majesty.”

“It was a good game,” he said after a fleeting moment of silence, eyes not peeling away from her for even a heartbeat. Naerys hummed in agreement. She shifted in her seat, then reached out for the dish of honeyed fruits. Her free hand fell to the protruding bulge midlevel. And just like that he found himself wondering whether there were any fears eating away at her.

After Alys, he would find it queer if she were completely at ease.

Noting his attention, the girl chewed with more force, presumably to free her tongue so she might use it. “Father, you have this strange look upon your face.” It was as much an invitation as he was ever going to receive from her, he knew. The trouble with Naerys was that unlike any of his other daughters, he found it incredibly difficult to read her.

He hesitated. Not for some misguided sense of shyness. It was rather difficult to maintain even a shred of that with a brood the size of his own. Granted, he’d not managed to outperform the never regretted old Lord Frey. But he was well-pleased with what he had managed. Nay, it was another thought which gave him pause. “You are still very much my child,” he told her nevertheless, pushing away his doubt. “Even now; that will never change.”

His daughter made a small sound in the back of her throat. She did not say a thing though, thus he understood that he was to continue. “What happened to Alys is saddening.” Tragic dare he say it, but he did not in the end. “But ‘tis not the natural order. She will likely have other children.”

“I do not fear the birthing chamber,” Naerys responded, her dependable cool-headedness coming to soothe any rough edges. “Recall, father, that I have faced it before and can no more avoid it in the future than the clouds can keep from raining.” She laughed then, covering her mouth with the heel of her hand. “Apologies, I did not mean to-” She stopped. ‘Twas not a pause to draw in air. “And if I did fear it, there was very little you could do to assuage that.”

“I give you that, daughter,” came his agreement, feeble at best. “But your mother might do a lot better on that score. Unlike me, she had a wealth of experience behind her. “Come to King’s Landing; she would feel better for it.”

“I daresay she would.” Naerys motioned to one of the servants to take the food away, “But my place is here. With Aemon. Mother is the most frightened one if you ask me. Besides, the children need minding, which mother would not be able to provide if I am constantly in her way.”

“Septa Mair is perfectly capable of watching the children,” he found himself arguing. Why he should, Rhaegar could not tell; except that Lyanna had been insistent that he bring Naerys to King’s Landing for her confinement and he was loathe to disappoint. “If you will not do it for your mother, then do it for me. Baelle has been muttering about an awful lot about flying Vaedar to Essos; Rhaella will only encourage her.”

“Father, you are being unfair to poor Rhaella. Her hunger for adventure has never landed her I any manner of trouble.” Mostly due to carefully crafted plans to have her in sight at all times. Rhaegar did not point that out. “As for Baelle, she would never dare fly so far away.”

“Still, indulge us. The keep won’t fall apart in your absence and Aemon is eagerly awaited by your mother as well.” He thought, very briefly, upon what Aemon might feel. “With her nameday fast approaching, you would not wish to disappoint her, would you?”

“I see. We are not to refuse this offer. Fair enough, Your Majesty.” The smile vanished from her lips. “The both of us know what fate awaits this gathering should brothers clash. I was more than willing to visit mother at another time. And it would be the better option.”

“Aegon and Aemon will just have to learn to get a long for a little while.” Otherwise he would be the one to suffer for it. Were he twenty years younger, he might have groaned at the prospect of constantly watching for conflict between his sons. Mercifully, he understood that some things could not be forced, while others, such as having them act civil to one another for a short period of time, could and, indeed, would be implemented. “We are understood then.”

“So we are.” His daughter stood and walked towards him, an endearing waddling truly, for her height permitted little other. She wrapped her arms around him. “I shall speak to Aemon. I shall even lecture him if I must.” He chuckled at the steel he heard beneath the softness. Rhaegar returned her embrace, glad that he was not as much of a mystery to her as she was to him. “In fact, I believe it would be wise to have a word with all of them.”

“At times I do regret your refusal to sit on my council, daughter. Had I men half as determined, I could throw my worries in the wind.”

“As I said, my place is here, with my husband. But if Your Majesty needs me, I am but a short dragon-flight away.”         

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exam tomorrow. I believe I'll continue perfecting my Jon Snow impression. Basically, this is me right now:
> 
> Anyway. Hope you enjoyed this little father-daughter interaction and I'm working on the timeline of births and such. I'll probably post that soon.
> 
> Let me know if you're especially interested in any of the children or a specific situation or such. Ciaules!


	3. iii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ATTENTION: THIS IS FULL OF SPOILERS!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jon looked up from his task, but not for the twitter of the birds. Nay, it was the rustling of skirts and the tinkling of bells. “You could make an effort and move about quietly,” he said, putting Truth aside. The woman did not pause in her approach; not that Jon had expected her to. It would denote a respect which was sorely lacking in her.

Bella chuckled, her low voice reverberating through the clearing. “And miss the dawning of awareness upon your face, my lord; I should think not.”  The silver bells shuddered with the shaking movements of her wrist. “You do not seem pleased to see me.” He blinked and stood, grasping Truth’s handle and returning it to its customary position. Bella drew closer and touched her hand to his sleeve. “The High Septon is about the garden. Were we to happen upon his path, I daresay his face would acquire a most intriguing shade of purple.” A spark of mischief lit her eyes.

“Were you not as valuable as you are, I would throw you at a moment’s notice,” he reminded her. Give Bella a finger and she’d take the whole hand, along with a few other body parts. Jon brushed away her touch and adjusted his doublet.

His companion pouted, blue eyes widening in a pleading gesture. “A smile or two would improve your features greatly,” she insisted, tugging on his arm with enough force to steer even an aurochs from its place. To preserve said limb, Jon bent to her will, just until they were standing on a sunlit path. Arm in arm, they made their way towards a small group of ponds. “Is this not wonderful?”

“How do I answer that without insulting your sensibilities?” Jon drawled, wondering if she had anything to tell him or simply wished to plague him. But then he might not have been endangering any sensibilities that could not be pacified with a few coins. Old habits.

“I know. ‘Tis marriage. It has turned you into quite a dull dog.” Apparently enthralled with her witticism, Bella continued with her teasing, but he could tell, before even taking his eyes off of her face that she’d spotted her quarry. Her grip on his arm tightened and she pressed herself into his side.

“Lord Baratheon,” hissed the middle aged newly minted High Septon. “The Master of Laws is supposed to set an example in righteous conduct.” His displeased glare moved to Bella. If looks could flay, Jon suspected she’d be writhing in pain.

He laughed softly. “It is my study to set the best of examples where there is need for it. What could be better conduct than being courteous?” Reigning in his amusement he deployed his best mask of indifference. Bella would never pass for a decorous lady, with all the artifices employed, among which he counted a kirtle that was almost decent. It was that mouth of hers, giving her away at all times.

The man looked as though he’d been struck. “My lord, Her Majesty the Queen is oft fond of saying she thinks of you as a model to the young princes.”        

“And well she does,” Bella cut in. “If only more mothers presented their sons with such an ideal. Generous and tolerant, a true knight. A true man besides.” Then, as though realizing her mistake, she covered her mouth and giggled behind it. “Apologies, my lord, I did not mean to–“ But the High Septon already looked as if he might fall into an apoplexy fit.

“I have had enough of the outdoors,” Jon intervened before the situation degenerated into chaos. As much as he enjoyed ruffling feathers, they were drawing close to a line that should not be crossed. They moved past the stuttering man, further down the path, until they were out of earshot. “Why have you come, again?”

“Forsooth, ‘tis only matters of business that interest you. I’ve managed to find out, but it might not please you.” He nodded anyway. Sooner or later, he would have learned. Better to be prepared. “He did bed her, got a bastard upon her even; but he did not wish her to keep it.”

“Moon tea?” he queried, feeling his heart drop underneath the weight of such knowledge. Bella nodded.

“You mustn’t worry, brother, I prepared it with my own hands and stayed until her good health was a certainty.” A sympathetic smile curled her lips. “But she does know. I do not perceive it shall be an easy task mending this breech.”

He was not even certain Alys would wish to try. “She did not say a thing?”

“You know Her Grace,” Bella shrugged, “she never says anything. Do you wish to know what I think?” Not particularly, but she could not help telling him, thus he allowed it. “Had she taken a stand, he would not have looked twice at Joy. Do not misunderstand, my lord, she is lovely. But–“

“Aegon has always loved Alys.” Something like bitterness trickled down his throat. “I have known them longer than you have.” Bella pursed her lips, but at long last she’d put an adequate distance between them. “He has not sent her away.”

“Nay. Let us look at the good of it; he’s not brought her along.” Good breeding or a sense of remorse? Jon could not decide. “Keep close watch on her.” The gods only knew what Alys would end up doing. Her last letter had been worrisome enough.

“How many unnecessary complications. Were it me, I would simply take the situation in hand,” the woman scoffed, throwing her head back, raven curls bouncing. “Shall I be off then?”

Jon did not answer he simply walked on, knowing she would not follow. It was dashed poor situation. And Alys was his sister as much as Aegon was his brother. Besides, it simply would not do for him to tread his way into the matter. Nay, both the mummers if this particular farce would have to solve their dilemmas on their own. His head hurt.

When he finally reached his apartments Jon was greeted by the sight of his eldest daughter tugging on a doll, while her younger sister pulled the opposite way. “Larra, what are you doing?” he asked, noting the alacrity with which the eldest child released the doll.

Argella, caught by surprise, fell back, landing upon the ground with a wail. He bent to pick up the weeping girl. “I thought there were more than enough dolls in this house.”

“But that is my doll she took,” Larra defended herself. “She has her own.”

“Nay. It’s mine,” Argella managed through the tears, one hand fisting against his chest.

“It’s not, you liar.” This was not going to end well.

Jon shushed the both of them, It was a wonder all the yelling hadn’t woken the babe. “I will get you a new doll, Larra. Let your sister have this one.”

A gasp came from the eldest girl. Tears welled up in her eyes. “Mother left her to me.” He’d not even looked at the thing. Jon had made a point not to glance at any of those reminders, except for Larra, whom he could not possibly dismiss.

Understanding dawned. He placed Argella back on her feet and gave her a stern look. “Is that true?” The girl shuffled her feet, avoided looking into his eyes and murmured something. “Speak up, Argella.”

“It is.” The grimace on her face confirmed as much. He looked towards the ceiling to keep his temper in check. They were children, he reminded himself.

“If you wish for a new doll, tell me. Taking your sister’s doll, however, is out of the question. And lying doesn’t help matters.” He thought he had done an admirable job of being calm and collected. Obviously Argella did not agree, for she turned to tears once more. He managed to catch only that though some mishap her own doll had broken, which had in turn prompted her to take Larra’s. “Apologise to your sister and return what you’ve taken.”

Larra, though, proved to be something else. She was frowning, looking at the proffered doll, not giving any attention to the apology. “You can have, if you really want it, but only until father brings you a new one.” Her eyes shot to his, hopeful. He released a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding and smiled at her.

“Little wonder you are Master of Laws,” his wife’s voice came from behind him. Jon turned to look at her. Lyanna frowned at the younger child. “Your sister has done very well by you. What do you say?”

“Thank you,” Argella replied, casting a shy glance to Larra as she clutched her trophy.

They were summarily sent off to their play, leaving him alone with his wife. “You might have intervened earlier.”

“They woke the babe. I didn’t have the courage to leave him alone.” Poor Manfred, he did not even know how fortunate he was. Lyanna laughed, presumably at the look he sported.

“If you would just see them in the care of a septa,” he murmured tiredly, but his spouse shook her head empathically.

“We made them, why leave it to strangers to raise them?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed this little, less romp-ey, romp.


	4. iv

 

 

 

 

 

 

Daegar murmured around his mouthful of egg, the answer more than enough to attract more than one pair of eyes to the two of them. “You would poison them all if you though there were hours enough in the day to fill in all the available positions; admit it. Poor Lady Melania, she would likely go along with it just to please you.”

Jaehaerys considered his brother. “At times, I find myself hoping the gods are as kind as the High Septon would have us believe. You, brother, are the perfect counter-argument to any hope I might entertain. Clearly,            they have divided all available sense between the rest of us and you have been left out.” His brother’s hulking figure shifted, bring him towering over Jaehaerys. Nevertheless, he remained as he was, staring up at Daegar, challenging him to refute the words, if he dared. “The servants are not the issue, dolt; their loose tongues, on the other hand, need trimming.”

“Servants will talk; people will talk. You cannot cut out all tongues,” his younger brother wisely offered. “Just root out the spies and have them dismissed. Surely, that would solve the matter satisfactorily.” Naïve, innocent Daegar. The towering form of colossus and the sensibilities of a maiden. Jaehaerys scoffed. The other’s eyes narrowed. “If you’ve no other thing to do, you could at the very least offer to find the twins for mother. ‘Tis better than plotting the death of your servants.”

He rolled his own eyes and stepped back. “Might be you should be the one to do it. I, unlike you, am a responsible member of the royal family, and have, as such, tasks to see to.” At times, he did resent the cruel fates which had decided to curse him with brother aplently and little understanding to go around. “I see your opponent approaches.”

Lady Brienne offered a curt greeting. “Your Grace, we thought you would not be coming.” He did not remain insensitive to the changes time had wrought upon her face. The freckles seemed starker in the bright light, but her eyes glittered like gemstones still. He allowed himself a quick visit to boyhood memories.

“Melania insisted,” he offered by way of explanation. It was true that his lady wife had encouraged their presence at court, but ‘twas equally true that she’d done so with a thought to please him. Not an unusual gesture. His brow furrowed, skin creasing into tight folds. “My lady, I did forget to make the request in the last missive I sent, but I’d been hoping we could work towards an agreement regarding the matter or fostering.”

“Your Grace,” she laughed, apparently more at ease once the formalities had been seen to, “I know not why you should single me out or the task when I am not a true knight.” Only because she had not accepted, for some off reason, to be knighted yet.

“Not in name, might be,” he agreed, “but I squired with you, for all intents and purposes, thus I know well the name means little. My son is yet young.” The Lady Tarth shook her head. She regarded him for a few moments, an unspoken question falling between them. “There is no one else I would rather have for my son’s teacher.”

“Good gods,” Daegar cut in good-naturedly, slapping a hand to his back. “Aerys is a babe. If you think to pass him off to Lady Brienne, I should tell you that father is still struggling to convince mother that even Rhaegon needs to foster. Suffice to say he left in a foul mood.”

“If only mother had been half as stubborn when it came to us,” he laughed along with Daegar. “I daresay Mela will be kept busy enough not to suffer to greatly.”

“I have still not agreed to take His Grace on,” Brienne of Tarth pointed out, at which Jaehaerys was compelled to glance her way once more. “Your Grace.”

“But you shall.”

“All he lacks is confidence.” His brother shooed him away, “I would still like to train sometime this day. You will have to find another time to make your case.” And in such a mood, Jaehaerys would not manage to get a drop more of rational conversation.

Excusing himself, he walked away from what promised to be an entertaining spectacle. The only viable option was returning to his chambers. Should he wander about his lady mother was bound to find him and talk him into promises he had no desire to fulfil. Varrax had been acting strange besides. Flying over large expanses of water in search of two rambunctious children was best left to individuals like father, or Jon.   

Melania greeted him within, a questioning look upon her face. “Never tell me good-mother has found you so fast.”

“Never tell me she came all the way over here.” His wife nodded. “What did you say to her?”

“The truth.” She tugged upon his arm and pulled him towards an empty chair. “Jon was wondering if you would allow Maester Sam to look over Varrax. Might be he could figure out what the trouble is.”     

“Jon should see to his laws.” He caught sight of his reflection in the looking glass and grimaced at the soft features. Melania sighed. “Fine. He can have a look. But I do not want you anywhere near the creature.”

“Varrax would never harm me.”

“Believe that if it please you, my lady, but keep a good distance.” The beast had been troublingly ambiguous in its behaviour. As much as he wished it were not the case, the dragon seemed unstable. And he would never permit harm to come to his wife and children. ‘Where is my son?”

“Larra and Argella have come for him. You know Aerys, he never could resist temptation and he did not try to this time either. Lyanna promised she would keep an eye on them and as I understand it, she means to keep her very own eyes on them still.”

“You’d think Jon would insist on a septa.”   

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
